


Talons

by Aabysinyaa



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BBC Sherlock - Freeform, M/M, Pigeons, pigeon'verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 10:25:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aabysinyaa/pseuds/Aabysinyaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John as Pigeons...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talons

Sherlock was always a strange pigeon, but then so has all of his family members.

His brother consorted with hawks, his father was kept by the great ones and his mother kept on trying to talk to the bats.

Sherlock was different however in that he liked to be alone, while simultaneously liking danger and adventure. 

The combination had driven him from not only his flock but from the whole territory his flock kept. He'd wandered so far, and had seen so much that it rarely bothered him, and when he did settle somewhere finally it was somewhere exciting, new things to look at and explore and experiment with every day. 

But there were no other pigeons. There were hunters and fishers, but none like Sherlock.

That is, until one day in winter when a storm blew in the strangest small pigeon Sherlock had ever met.

It was probably one of the coldest days of the year. Sherlock was picking loose feathers from his hollow-nest when he heard to soft uncomfortable sounds of another pigeon, he could hear them struggling urgently against the heavy winds but one particularly strong gust was all it took and he heard the pigeon slam hard into the tree he was resting in with a loud, pained squawk.

A quick peek outside confirmed the theory as he watched the dazed pigeon climb slowly to his feet, wings flaring intermittently with the gusts of wind.

“Down there,” he called clearly to the pigeon, “If you can make it up here there should be room enough for you to shelter,” what he said was quite true, the pigeon was one of the smallest he'd ever seen, fluffy and slightly plump. 

With a small squeak the only confirmation that he had indeed been heard, the small pigeon launched himself back into the air. Fluttering desperately towards his hollow. After what seemed like an hour long struggle the small pigeon was safely within the confines of the hollow-nest. 

“Hello,” said the small one. Flapping a wing in greeting. 

“Name?” Sherlock asks, a little forcefully. 

“John,” the small pigeon replied, feathers ruffling against the sudden sound of the next gust of wind. 

“You were a Warrior for your flock,” Sherlock stated, 

“Yes,” replied John with an amused and confused look on his face, “Sorry, how?”

Sherlock smirked, “Well look at you,” John couldn't help the insulted look that crossed his face, “No, don't be stupid, you have the more developed muscles of a aerial combatant and the sharpened talons of one as well. They're only now starting to blunt away, your small, but that hasn't seemed to hinder you and have scarring along your left wing and back, congruent with enemy talons,” Sherlock summarized, the little pigeon could only stare.

“That, was, amazing,” John told him, eyes wide, “Really quite spectacular”,

it was Sherlock's turn to look surprised now, “Really,” the smaller pigeon nodded softly.

The praise sent Sherlock into an unexpected fit of shivers, fluffing out his feathers, seeming to to crush John beneath them. 

“Why? What do they normally say?” John asked quietly, it was quite clear to him that the larger pigeon wasn't used to such praise.

“Piss off,” Sherlock stated, it came out as lightly as he could make it with out the words floating into the stratosphere but the answer left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a soft tugging at his chest feathers. John had sidled up to him and was grooming him. Tensed by the sudden invasion he soon found himself relaxing into the affection, leaning over the smaller to lightly groom the feathers that bordered the wound.

Both were relaxed though the wind continued to gale and rain began to fall.


End file.
